What Curiosity Brings
by ZQ
Summary: Before everything was broken, there was the HCS. They found the world's best-kept secret: countless men and women of incredible power, beauty, and longevity. And now, they're determined to seal that secret away in stone and silence forever. Prequel to SuperSister's fic, "Human Curiosity".
1. Prologue: HCS

**Prologue**

June 10th, 2001

_If you are reading this, you are very fortunate. You are now a member of our organization. As a member of this group, the information you will be privy to will be shocking. What we are dedicated to studying is no less than the world's longest and best-kept secret._

_Do not concern yourselves with aliens. Do not worry about Bigfoot. Do not waste your time with Atlantis. This is real. It is the greatest treasure of all time, as well as the most terrifying. This secret, you must understand, is not contained to one time or place. It is everywhere. It always has been. It very well may have begun with the dawn of all creation. It exists across the entire globe._

_National Anthropomorphic Personifications. That's what they are. They look like any ordinary many or woman, but they are very much not human. They are created to represent a region, and that is their only purpose. Their lives are tied to their countries. It dictates their feelings, their thoughts, who they hate, who they love, everything about them._

_We know a little of these people. With the help of you and every other dedicated member of this group, we will know even more. By reading this, you have chosen to join our organization and become an integral part of our team. Welcome._

_- David Hunter, Human Curiosity Satisfacterors Leader_

* * *

David Hunter smiled as he flipped through the rest of the leaflets. They had turned out well. Now all that was left was for his secretary to staple them together with the rest of the information they would distribute to new recruits.

New recruits. His stomach clenched. This really was happening. There had been talk of this for so long, and now it was finally happening. After eleven years, the Human Countries Anonymous had officially about to become the Human Curiosity Satisfacterors.

The _HCS_. It had a nice ring to it, he had to admit.

He felt stupid for being so nervous. Hunter had repeatedly voted in favor of the change to the group. Their original goals were short-sighted, he always felt, and accomplished little. If they were to properly learn anything about those personifications, they had to take a more hands-on approach with their methods.

They would watch. They would listen.

They would learn.

* * *

**A/N - Hello to all you in Readerland out there! This fic is going to be a tad different from my other ones, namely in that it is a prequel to the Hetalia fanfiction "Human Curiosity", by the lovely SuperSister. If you have already read Human Curiosity, you should have some idea of what's going to be going on. If you have not, go read it! It's awesome! (Though, if you don't want to know what's going to be happening, wait until after this fic is done to read it. XD)**

**In any case, I hope everyone enjoys! As always, feel free to drop in a review and let me know what you liked, didn't like, etc and so on!**

**- ZQ**


	2. Chapter 1: Prussia Gone Down

**Chapter 1**

**August 11****th****, 2010**

"And you can imagine how terribly embarrassing that was, _mon ami_," said France, clapping both Prussia and Spain on the backs. Or tried to, at least. He'd been drinking heavily for the past few hours, and was having a hard to aiming. "But it was most fortunate - erm, I was most fortunate. He - her boyfriend - he was most receptic- _receptive_, yes, and he'd been eating strawberries not long before…"

"What a wonderful story!" laughed Spain, as France trailed off. He always loved a night of drinking with his friends, especially when the bartender was on a first-name basis with them. (First human name, anyway. They all knew the rule, no humans were to know who they really were.)

"Eh, I think I could have done better," said Prussia. "There was that one time with Austri - um… Roderich and Elizabeta. Crawled in their living room window while they were watchin' TV…"

"And?" asked Spain, as France fell face-first onto the bar counter and began to snore.

"And Elizabeta hit me with her frying pan, the bitsh," Prussia growled. "But still, it was aweshum! You had ta be there!"

"I think so," said Spain. He glanced around the bar and saw how many people were glaring at them. "Well, I think it's best if we head back to our hotels."

"Yeah, fine, whateve'," Prussia said dismissively, tossed a handful of bills on the bar counter. He was paying for everyone this time around. He'd bet with France over the cost of the night out, as to whether or not he could best Germany at arm-wrestling. He still could not believe how strong his little brother was.

He managed to preserve his dignity by insisting that he went easy on the kid.

The three nations staggered outside, Spain half-carrying France. As soon as they were outside, they bid each other goodnight and went in opposite directions. They had tried to book rooms at the same hotel while they were in Paris, but the management had barred Prussia from ever setting foot in their establishment again.

It was a long story, involving three goldfish, some moldy take-out, a faulty electric cord, and the bellhop. In his defense, Prussia _had_ paid for the damage, and did feel very bad about it. The room had nice curtains, and he felt bad about causing them to be ruined.

Prussia tried to head down the street to his hotel, but found it more difficult than he thought. After going through several twists and turns he found himself… in the ally behind the bar he started at.

Huh.

It was no matter, he decided. He would just pull out his totally awesome cell phone and use the GPS on that to find the hotel. It took him a few seconds of groping around to get it out of his pocket, and a few more seconds to make sure he wasn't going to drop it.

When he finally got it secured, flipped open, and turned on, he had to stare at the screen for several seconds. His contacts list was open. He began clicking through it, pleased at how many people were in it. Only a person who was truly as awesome as he was would have so many names listed.

As Prussia flipped through the names, he eventually came across Germany's number. Oh yeah, he was in town as well! Idiot was leading the World Meeting or something stupid. Heh. He might be Prussia's little brother, but there was no way Germany could hope to be as awesome as his big bruder. And, after all the beers he'd had, it seemed only right to call him up at eleven o'clock at night and tell him this.

It was a very good thing he had Germany's home number on speed dial, Prussia reflected. The buttons on his cell phone were determined to be unawesome and blur around so much that it annoyed even the great him. Even the button for dialing seemed to refuse to stay in the same place, and it took several tries for him to make the call.

He thought awesome thoughts as the phone rang. Finally, there was an answer.

"Prussia?"

"Ha! You know!" laughed Prussia. "You're psycho-chick-chic-something, aren't you? I knew mein awesomeness would rub off on you one day!"

"Bruder, how drunk are you?"

"Not enough to stop my AWESOMENESS!" he screeched, flailing his arms and nearly knocking over a garbage can. "Just wanted to say I think you're awesome too, and you can tell Italy he's _almost_ awesome. Not his bruder, though. That guy's annoying!"

Germany sighed. "Where are you?"

"Me and mein awesomeness are in the alley behind our favorite bar."

"…Did you get thrown out again?"

"Nonshense. I walked out." Prussia yawned, his buzz beginning to wear off. "Don't worrah, I'll be heading home soon."

"Not on your own, you aren't. Stay where you're at. I'll be there in ten minutes to pick you up. Goodbye."

"I am awesome!" Prussia screamed, as Germany hung up.

Nine minutes later, Prussia was awesomely bored. After sitting still for so long, he was getting impatient. Where _was_ his bruder? _Gott_! He was always so slow with everything! Prussia had a good mind to take another stab at walking back to the hotel on his own. Germany would sure feel stupid when he made it to this place and Prussia was gone!

Unfortunately the ground was not cooperating. As soon as he stood up, it swayed violently and sent him careening sideways into another unfortunate garbage can.

"Scheiss Hose!" he shouted, as he ended up on the ground again.

He was beginning to think that it might be better to wait for Germany and be bored when several people climbed over the fence at the closed-off end of the ally.

There were… three of them? Prussia was having a hard time making them out, partially because he was drunk off of his ass, but also because they were wearing dark uniforms and helmets that made them blend into the night almost perfectly. Were they ninjas? Had Germany decided it was too much trouble to get him in person, and instead asked Japan to come and get him?

"Hey, thish is _mein_ ally!" Prussia snapped. "Get your own!"

The figures said nothing to this. One raised their hand and Prussia snorted. What, did they think he'd feel bad because they pointed a finger at him rudely? What were they -

A second later, Prussia's entire body clenched up. He fell flat on his back and felt his toes curling and his shoulders jerking and all he could think was that the assholes had the balls to _taser_ him!

He'd been through worse, though. Drunk or not, three people weren't going to get the drop on him! Clenching his teeth, he fought through the pain long enough to reach up and pull out the metal piece shot into him. With it removed, the taser couldn't hurt him anymore.

Still shaking, he jumped to his feet. The shock cleared his head enough for him to keep his balance. He immediately went on the offensive. It might be crazy of him, but his philosophy was that people who used tasers on one were not trying to be one's friend.

He went for the figure on the right first, noticing him or her reaching for a weapon. His fist collided with their jaw, sending them falling back. Another one of the figures tried to pull him back by the shoulders - jeez, what amateur moves - but Prussia broke free. He spun and went for his all-time favorite, a kick to the crotch. Classic and versatile, working just as well on women as men.

The second figure howled in pain, and Prussia grinned. He really was awesome. Those punks really bit off more than they could chew!

A second later though, the third figure managed to overcome Prussia's awesome defenses and restrain him from behind. It wasn't going to do much. Even drunk as he was, Prussia could remember countless ways to break such a hold. All he had to do was -

One of the other two people recovered enough to spray something in his face. Prussia just had enough time to think about what a weird-ass night it had been, before he passed out.

* * *

On the street in front of Prussia's favorite bar, Germany carefully parallel parked. He was none too pleased at having to pick up his drunk bruder (_again_), especially at this particular one. It was dirty and noisy and offended Germany's order-loving sensibilities. He winced as somewhere behind the bar, someone screamed. Even the drunk and disorderly seemed more annoying to him than at other places. Yes, there was a reason he didn't frequent bars like this. Still, family was family. Prussia surely would do the same for him.

… Oh, who was he kidding?

Regardless, _someone_ had to be responsible. It wasn't like Germany hadn't had plenty of experience filling that role, between trying in vain to keep Italy out of trouble, trying to help Japan figure out how the Western world worked, and losing his sanity over World Meetings.

With a sigh, Germany headed for the ally behind the bar. He was very familiar with the area. It was where Prussia always ended up, every time he went to the bar and did not get arrested by the night's end. It wasn't a very large area, and Prussia was always easy to find.

So why, Germany wondered, was his bruder nowhere in sight?

"Gilbert?" Germany called, his voice booming through the night. "Gilbert, where are you?"

There was no response, save for the meow of some stray cat.

Germany rubbed the bridge of his nose. Prussia was hardly the best at following instructions, but he never wandered off like this. Fantastic. Well, there was nothing to be done but see where he got off to.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Prussia's number. He was beginning to think of how he was going to lecture Prussia over this one, when the phone started ringing.

Under normal circumstances, this would not have been a cause for concern. However every time it rang, Germany heard several bars of _Mein Heart Brennt_.

Which was Prussia's ring tone.

And, by the sound of things, it was coming from about a foot away from where Germany was standing.

Yes, Prussia's cellphone was just lying on the ground. Germany reached down to pick it up, and his hand brushed something else. He grabbed this mysterious object as well, and brought it close to his face so he could make out what it was.

It was Prussia's wallet.

There was no mistaking it. Even if Germany couldn't recognize the wallet itself (which he did, given how many times Prussia waved it under his nose and proclaimed it to be awesome), all of his bruder's IDs and information was in there. His driver's license, the card identifying him as a government official (to be used in the event of a run-in with the police, though Prussia also used it to try to pick up girls), both were Prussia's.

Even stranger, Germany noted, the money was still in there. And it was a decent amount of money, as well. So at least his bruder had not been mugged, it looked. That was a relief. But that still raised questions, namely why Prussia left his cellphone and wallet lying on the ground. Yes, the nation was hardly the most responsible of the lot, but even he remembered how their boss threatened to cut off his supply of beer if he didn't return his calls immediately.

Germany pocketed the items. He was really getting worried. The sooner he figured out where Prussia had gone, the better. He dialed another number on his cellphone. They were in France's house. He'd check and see if France had any clue what was going on.

"_Hola_? Can I help you with something?"

Well, that definitely was not France. "Spain? Why are you using France's phone?"

The nation gave an embarrassed laugh. "Oh, right. Well, France kind of passed out on the way home, so I was keeping an eye on him. I figured he'd want me to take a message, if this was important. Is it?"

"It's…" Germany paused, honestly not sure how to answer that question. _Was_ it important? This really wasn't the first time Prussia had wandered off somewhere, especially after drinking. But something still felt wrong. "Have you seen Prussia, Spain?"

"Prussia?" Spain repeated, and Germany could just picture him wrinkling his forehead as he thought. "No, I haven't seen him since we left the bar. Isn't he at his hotel?"

"I suppose. I don't know. He called me to pick him up, but went off somewhere before I could find him."

"Really? How odd!"

Why did he have to say that? Germany had been hoping so very much that he was wrong, and that the situation _wasn't_ strange. "I was wondering if France knew where Prussia was, seeing as we are in his house."

"I'm not sure if he can help you right now, Germany. He's a bit… well, indisposed."

"Could you see if he could check? I - I am somewhat concerned."

Which, coming from Germany, meant he was very worried. Spain seemed to realize that, because he said "Hold on, I'll check."

There was a moment of silence as Spain stepped away from the phone. Germany heard soft talking in the background. Someone screamed "COMMENT DANS L'ENFER PUIS-JE L'SAIS?" and there was the sound of violent retching. There was gentle crooning (presumably from Spain), and a weaker "_Non_, I don't. Leave me alone."

"He says he has no idea where Prussia is," said Spain, when the nation returned to the phone. "He's not quite at his best at the moment, though. Perhaps if he checked tomorrow, he'll figure it out."

Germany began to say that he hoped so, but did not. That would mean he was acknowledging the possibility of something happening, and _nothing was wrong, damn it_! "Thank you, Spain," was what he finally brought himself to say.

He hung up and stared at his cell phone, thinking of who else to call. The hotel was next. That must be it. Prussia was back in his room, sleeping off the effects of his drinking. That had to be what happened, Germany thought as he punched in the number. Otherwise, Prussia disappeared and that was not, _could not_, be possible.

* * *

**A/N - If it's not obvious, I fail at writing how drunk people talk. I do apologize, but hope it at least amused y'all.**

**"Scheiss Hose" is German for "shit pants". I'm not sure how often that particular phrase is slung around, but my relatives apparently used it a lot. So yeah.  
**

**"Comment dans l'enfer puis-je l'sais" is French for "How the hell should I know that?" France does not like being bothered while he's vomiting. (Then again, who does? :P)  
**

**For those interested _Mein Heart Brennt_ is the song that played during the trailer of _Hellboy 2_. Somehow, I get the feeling Prussia would love that movie and everything about it.**

**Edit: Translation errors were fixed. ^^;**


	3. Chapter 2: The Awesome Is Gone

**Chapter 2**

**August 12****th****, 2010**

Prussia was used to waking up with a pounding head, after he'd been out drinking. He was also used to waking up in various states of undress, wincing at the light shining in his eyes. He was even used to waking up in strange rooms, more often than not finding an attractive person (male or female) lying next to him.

Still, as he slowly drifted to consciousness, he knew something was off.

He struggled to figure out exactly what it was, which was not easy when his head felt like someone was trying to jab a railway spike through it. It did not help matters that there were countless lights glaring down at him, no doubt racking up a huge electric bill for whoever owned the place.

Prussia's brain kicked into auto-drive. He had not waited for Germany to get him. Thus, he had a very angry little bruder looking for him, somewhere. Best to get up, sneak away from whoever's place he crashed at, and find Germany.

As he tried to sit up, though, he realized exactly what was off about his situation. The unusually hard bed he could handle. The freakishly bright lights he could take. The strange room? Eh, odd but not really out there.

But as he struggled to get off of the bed, he realized that he was tied down to it.

The shock of this managed to clear his head a little more. This sort of thing didn't _happen_, at least not in this day and age. Sure, he'd had plenty of experiences being tied up and subjected to freaky stuff (most of which was thanks to Russia, during the days of the Berlin Wall). But being tied down to a table? A table which, from the feel of things, was stainless steel? That was new. He didn't like it at all. Though he liked the fact that leather straps were holding his ankles, wrists, and neck in one place even less.

He also did not like the fact that his shirt was missing, and not just because he was getting chilly. Being on what seemed to be an operating table? Bad. Being on an operating table without clothes? _Very_ bad.

Somewhere out of his line of sight, he heard a door swing open. He tried to twist his head to see what was going on, but his head was firmly fixed so he could only see the ceiling.

A few seconds later though, he was able to get some idea of what was going on. Two people were moving around on his right side, just within his peripheral vision. That they were both wearing surgical masks, scrubs, and a lab coat and were carrying various medical instruments made him, if possible, even more uneasy about the situation.

One of them, a man, set up a small table. He balanced a tray of small, silver tools on it, along with some box-like object. Prussia tried to see what was going on, but was distracted by the sensation of something cold being stuck to his head.

"What the hell?!" he screeched.

"The drugs are wearing off," said a woman's voice from behind Prussia's head. "Do we administer another dose?"

"No! Let me _out_ of here!" snarled Prussia, twisting and trying to pull himself free. Damn it, why was this so difficult? He was a nation! He'd been shot and stabbed countless times! He'd broken things much tougher than leather! What was going on?

"Eh, don't bother," said the man. "We'll be starting the procedure soon enough. Better just give a minute and go straight to the anesthesia."

"Excuse me?!" Prussia's voice managed to get even louder. "Procedure for what? What anesthesia? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING?"

"Okay, I think we're ready," said the man, completely ignoring Prussia. "You want to do it, or should I?"

The woman stepped around to where the man was standing, so Prussia could see both of them. "You'd better do it," she said, watching as the nation frantically twisted his arms to try to break free. "I haven't done it much. Don't want to miss the vein."

"Fair enough," said the man.

God damn it, who _were_ these people? What kind of doctors did stuff like this? Prussia swore to God that when he was out of there, he would be having a few words with whoever's health care service he'd fallen victim to. Words that were most likely going to be four-lettered.

Those thoughts flew out of Prussia's head as he saw the man pick up something from the tray. As the man held it up to inspect it, Prussia felt himself go numb.

It was a syringe.

He felt cold, and he had a feeling it had nothing to do with his lack of a shirt. He redoubled his efforts to free himself, pulling and twisting and screaming his head off. Every curse word he knew, in every language, went flying through the air in the faintest hope that someone - _anyone_ - would hear it and save him.

The man and woman - doctors, mad scientists, whatever the hell they were - didn't even look fazed. The man just grabbed Prussia's arm and managed to hold it still. With amazing precision, he stuck the needle in and pushed down the plunger.

Prussia managed to get out six more rude accusations about their parentage before he _really_ felt himself go numb. It started in his arm, where the needle had gone in, but spread quickly, far too quickly, through the rest of his limbs. It was in his head and his heart and his fingers and everywhere, and he could not _move_. He could blink and he could breathe, but that was it.

"Okay," said the man, fumbling with that weird box-thing. It must have been a tape recorder, because there was a click, and the man began talking into it. "August 12th, 2011 - Doctors Henderson and Parker are going to begin abdominal exploratory surgery on Prisoner 1, otherwise known as Gilbert Beilschmidt, otherwise known as the former nation of Prussia."

They _knew_? They knew who he was? How did they - how did that leak out? Did they know who the other nations were? And why did they take him? Were they one of those fringe political groups America always bitched about? If so, what did they think _he_ could give them?

"Though Prussia has officially been dissolved," the man continued, interrupting Prussia's panicked thoughts, "Our observations have led us to believe that he may currently be representing the region of Eastern Germany, or else the Kaliningrad Oblast. For the duration of this procedure and future ones -"

_Future_ procedures? _Shit_!

"Designated HCS employees will be observing those territories. In the event that the experiments on Prisoner 1 cause negative effects on the land or its people, we will be forced to continue our testing through alternate means. If there are no negative effects, we shall proceed as planned."

At this point, Prussia would have been hyperventilating if he could control his lungs. The male doctor - Doctor Henderson - was picking up a scalpel from the tray.

"We will begin the procedure immediately."

_Wait!_ Prussia wanted to scream. _I'm still awake! Don't do this!_

At this point, Doctor Parker spoke up. "According to our EEG readings," she said, directing her words towards the microphone, "our subject is currently conscious, though physically paralyzed by the muscle relaxant administered. This state of anesthesia awareness will be maintained, so that we can study the correlation between pain and the subject's brain patterns."

For the first time in his many years, Prussia wished he were dead.

The first cut was quick and efficient and hurt like _hell_. Prussia had been cut before, but almost always while he was fighting or struggling. Now, forcibly relaxed and without any adrenalin, there was nothing to distract him from what was going on. He wasn't sure if it helped or was worse that he couldn't tilt his head to see what was going on. On one hand, he hated not knowing what they were up to. On the other hand, he was pretty sure that if he saw them groping around in his stomach, he'd throw up.

He started remembering his failed invasions of Russia, the time he realized Hungary was a woman, the many times he teased Austria, anything to distract himself from the fact that _he was being cut open, oh God_! There were two more cuts made, like an "I", and he could now feel them reaching under the skin and opening him up like a box.

Some really awesome things came in boxes. Like puppies! Puppies were awesome! Ludwig had three, though they were dogs now. Gilbird didn't always like them, though. Think of the puppies, think of the puppies, don't think of how they're rooting around inside... dammit! It didn't hurt so much now that he was actually open, but it felt _weird_!

He felt something brushing his shoulder and, grateful for the distraction, he turned his attention to it. Doctor Parker had wandered over and was running her hand along him in a way he probably would have appreciated more, under different circumstances.

"Wow," she murmured. "He's… amazing!"

"_It's_ amazing, yes," Doctor Henderson corrected her. "Don't call it a 'him'. You'll only get attached."

"It's so strange that it's so human," she said, leaning over Prussia's face. "I know we were hypothesizing about how easily they died, but do you think it bleeds like a normal person as well?"

"We're going to be finding out," said Henderson.

If possible, Prussia began to feel even worse. He closed his eyes and did his damnedest to ignore how his body gently shifted from side to side as the two doctors grabbed and hacked at his organs. He counted the seconds, the minutes, and eventually the hours. He clung to his sanity only by thinking that it would have to be over soon.

Dear God, let it be over.

* * *

**July 22, 2011**

Exactly eleven months and eleven days ago, Prussia disappeared without a trace.

Eleven months and ten days ago, Germany had woken up every nation at the crack of dawn, demanding that they meet for an impromptu World Meeting to find out who knew where his bruder had gone.

Eleven months and eight days ago, it was finally determined that really, none of the nations had seen Prussia since he had gone out drinking, and they weren't covering for something stupid he'd done. Again.

Germany did his best to swallow his fear. Everything surely was fine. Prussia always survived. He'd outlasted the Teutonic Knights and survived the dissolving of the Kingdom of Prussia. His bruder must have stumbled off somewhere. He was a nation. What was going to happen to him?

And so, for the next eleven months and some-odd days, he recruited everyone he possibly could for a worldwide nation-hunt.

Many of the nations were willing to help out with the search. Hungary, Spain, France, and (with a little prodding from Hungary) Austria were the first to help out. Italy joined in as well, weeping at how upset his friend was. Japan too was concerned for his former ally, and lead his many siblings in combing Asia. America was determined to be a hero as usual, and went through all fifty of his states. He searched with Mexico, who said that none of her fellow Central American nations had seen Prussia, and Canada, who Germany a minute to remember. England and Romano ended up helping after some puppy-dog eyes from America and Spain respectively.

Between them, they scoured every inch of the Earth. No rock was left unturned. No home was left unsearched. Even the most hostile nations were spoken with (though South Korea had to duck when North threw something at his head).

And after so many months, it was all in vain. For all intents and purposes, Prussia had vanished off of the face of the planet.

Germany refused to admit defeat, however. He pushed everyone to keep looking. He himself hardly ate or slept, chasing even the faintest rumors as to where Prussia might have gone. He ignored his boss's questions. He ignored the concerns of the other nations. He blocked everything out, except for where Prussia could possibly be.

Until…

"Germany," said England gently, "I think it's time we bring this to an end."

Germany gave him a truly frightening look. They had just ended a meeting specifically for sharing their progress on the search for Prussia, and the lack of news had left Germany extremely disheartened.

"I think he right, aru," said China, stepping in to give England some support. "We've looked for this long, and still nothing?"

"I do not care what you think," Germany snapped. "Just because you two are not able to find a missing person -"

"It's not just them," said Austria. "We've all thought this through."

Germany growled. "_No_."

Hungary took Germany's hands in hers. "Please, Germany," she said. "It's for the best. We all love - _loved_ him, but we must move on!"

Germany winced at the obvious use of past tense. "You think my bruder is..."

"We do," said England, as the rest of the group nodded and murmured in agreement.

"He certainly is not. I would know if he is."

"_How_?" asked England, in exasperation. "How would you know that, Germany? You'd feel something go out, like a light? I'm sorry, but it _has_! We have been over every inch of every spit of land, and no one has come anywhere close to sensing Prussia!"

Germany clapped his hands over his ears. "Be quiet!"

England did not stop. He began trying to pry Germany's hands away from his head. "Listen to me, you stupid berk! I know it's hard! I... the same thing happened with Mother Brittania, when I was just a child!"

"_Quiet_!" repeated Germany, pulling away.

"Everyone here has suffered the same loss," England continued, still grabbing at the taller nation's hands. "We're here! We'll all help you! But you have to acknowledge that your brother has faded awa -"

"BE QUIET!" Germany roared.

The room was deathly still for a moment, after that outburst. Then, France gently touched Germany's shoulder. "_Mon ami_, what _Angleterre_ says is true. We won't abandon you to your grief."

Germany looked at him, not bothering to hide how red his eyes were. "You think this too, France?"

"He and I both," said Spain. "Please, Germany. Prussia was our best friend, but...but we can't sense him anywhere! He is nowhere to be found! We always thought it was a fluke that he continued on with us after his country dissolved, and it must just have been his time."

Even France and Spain agreed. Germany looked at the faces of everyone gathered around him. They were all grief-stricken and sympathetic and he did not doubt for a minute that they were sincere in their condolences. But how could they give up and abandon his bruder like that? _How_? He tried to think of some way to express this, but all he could say was "He represented my other half."

"What was that?" asked England, gently.

"I said, he represented the other half of my house." Germany cleared his throat so he could better enunciate. "That was why he lasted as long as he did. He called me West, because I represented that part of our house. I don't know why mein bruder did not bother with changing his name, but he officially was Eastern Germany. That is why I can not believe he would just vanish. Eastern Germany is still here so... so he must be!"

Verdammt! Why would they not go away? Did they really have nothing better to do than stand there and stare at him as if he had some terminal illness? So they seemed convinced Prussia was gone forever! Even if that was true did it - wasn't he allowed any privacy?

Someone much shorter than him latched to his middle in a hug. "Ve! Germany, please don't be sad!" Italy wailed, sobbing into his friend's uniform.

"I... It is fine, Italy," Germany said, not sure of how to react to such a passionate reaction.

"I remember when _Nonna _Rome disappeared. Ve! It was so sad! But I had Romano and Big Brother France - even though they really scared me - and you can have me!"

"Italy," said Germany. His voice was low, so no one would hear it cracking. He focused on the small nation still clinging to him. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw the other nations quickly leaving the room. It was about time. "Italy," Germany tried again, "I...I will be..."

That was as far as he managed to get, before sinking to the ground and weeping.

* * *

**July 25th, 2011**

David Hunter was very pleased.

It had been almost exactly one year since they had begun their experimentation on Prisoner 1, and everything had gone better than he could ever have hoped.

At his right, an HCS technician leaned towards a microphone fixed in front of them. "Prisoner 1," the technician said, his voice slow and even. "Prisoner 1, respond."

Prisoner 1 was in the same room as them, but was kept at a distance by a wall of plexiglass. The plexiglass was specifically designed with the strength of the nations in mind, so there was no chance of Prisoner 1 breaking it and escaping.

Not that Prisoner 1 was in a position to break much, at the moment. They had started it on a long-running nutrient deprivation test, and the effects were slowing it down. Already Prisoner 1 was twenty pounds underweight and, most intriguingly, its hair was beginning to fall out. It was also showing signs of having less energy.

As they watched Prisoner 1, those effects were very noticeable. It was slumped in the chair set up in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the wall in front of it.

"Prisoner 1, respond," the technician repeated.

Prisoner 1 turned its head to stare in their direction. It didn't say anything, which didn't surprise them. They'd taken the morning blood samples just before beginning the test, and it was always disoriented after that.

It was usually also nicely quiet and compliant, which was why they tended to take the samples before experimentation.

Satisfied that he had Prisoner 1's attention, the technician continued. "Prisoner 1, on the table in front of you, there are three cups.

Prisoner 1 looked forward again. Its eyebrows raised in mild surprise, as if it only just had noticed the table and plastic cups.

"You are to drink from the cup farthest to the right."

As the nation reached mechanically for the cup, the technician switched off the microphone and turned to Hunter. "It's amazing all we've learned from it!" he gushed. "The vivisections have been enormously informative, especially in regards to its healing and regenerative abilities. Why, in a decade or two, we may even figure out a way to isolate whatever it is responsible for such a healing factor! Imagine the possibilities!"

"And it looks like it's settled in quick enough," said Hunter, watching Prisoner 1 drinking from the specified cup. When they had begun experimentation on the subject, it had protested loudly, often with much cursing in German. Whenever it had a chance, it would bite and strike at the scientists or HCS employees in charge of tying it down. Now though, it was subdued enough that they weren't worried about such things.

The technician switched on the microphone again. "Prisoner 1, remain seated and as still as possible for precisely thirty seconds."

Hunter tapped the technician on the shoulder, signaling that he wanted to talk to him. "Have you received word from the people monitoring East Germany and the Kaliningrad Oblast?" he asked, when the microphone was again turned off.

"Yes sir. They have reported that there have been no unusual activities in either regions."

"Excellent. I think we can continue as planned, in that case."

In the sealed-off part of the room, Prisoner 1 began to gag violently. It fell sideways off of the chair and crashed gracelessly to the ground, where it lay on its side and began retching out some watery, yellow-brown bile.

"Shit," muttered the technician, taken by surprised. He flipped on the microphone and began droning, "Prisoner 1, when your air passage has cleared, please describe any unusual images, sounds, or smells you may be experiencing…"

Hunter took his leave at this point. He had a lot to get ready, if they were to go ahead with the second part of their plan.

There were roughly one hundred and ninety-six countries in the world, and that wasn't even considering the countless colonies, territories, and micronations.

There were plenty to choose from to bring into HCS custody.

David Hunter smiled at the thought. _Ready or not, here we come…_

* * *

**A/N - Anesthesia awareness is a real thing, yes. It apparently varies widely in how the affected person perceives the world, and more commonly happens with muscle relaxants. EEGs can sometimes help doctors figure out if it's going on, but it's not 100% foolproof.**

**Fun fact - there are 195 officially recognized countries in the world, with Taiwan being disputed. A lot of territories considered people often think of (example: Puerto Rico) aren't actually counted as a part of that 195_._ Of course Hetalia doesn't follow that rule, so there's a lot more than 195 personifications. ^^ **


	4. Chapter 3: Abduction - Part 1

**Chapter 3**

**August 11, 2011**

"You stupid git! Give that back!" England snapped, lurching at Scotland.

Scotland, who was a good head taller than his youngest brother, laughed and waved the mess of yarn and needles that he'd seized. "Come and get it, little man!"

England gave a scream of fury and tried to jump up to reach it. "You're going to tangle it up!"

"Who even knits anymore?" asked North Ireland, sitting comfortably in an armchair and watching the whole thing.

"Shut up!" said England. He was regretting inviting his brothers over.

"I mean, aside from old ladies."

"Shut _up_!" Yes, he was regretting it very much. Why in the world had he thought a family get-together was a good idea? When had he sustained sufficient head trauma to come up with the notion?

Sealand, who had been amusing himself in the corner in some way or another, laughed. "Jerk England's an old lady!"

"I AM NOT!" England had even less clue why he invited Sealand along. Yes the little brat was his younger brother, but it wasn't like England had acknowledged him or anything! Anyway, wasn't the boy Sweden and Finland's problem now?

"Quiet down, will you?" Ireland called from the kitchen. "You'll wake up Wales!"

England glanced at Wales, who had been asleep on the sofa for the past half hour. "I don't think he's going to be getting up anytime soon."

"Didn't know you cared about Wales's rest, brother dear," commented Northern Ireland.

"Say what?" asked Ireland, carrying a jug of milk into the living room.

England felt a headache coming on. "What are you doing with that?"

"Carrying it. Any more stupid questions?"

"Yes. What _will_ you be doing with it?"

In response, Ireland walked over to the sofa and overturned the jug on Wales's head.

Wales woke up quickly enough at that, crying out in surprise. "Pen pidyn!" he screamed at Ireland, as Scotland and North Ireland doubled over laughing.

England smacked Ireland on the head. "What the hell is the matter with you? Not only did you ruin my lovely sofa, but that was the last of my milk!"

"And he got me all wet!" added Wales. This was ignored.

"Alright, fine, I'll pay for the sofa," said Ireland.

"Damned right you will. And you're buying me more milk, right now!"

Ireland blinked. "What, right _now_, right now?"

"This very second. Go on, get!"

"You have got to be joking."

"I most certainly am not. Move!"

Ireland rolled his eyes, as England pushed him towards the front door. "Imeacht gan teacht ort, little brother."

"And the same to you, dearest big brother," said England. "If it's any incentive, I use that milk for my tea. I can't have my tea without it. So unless you'd like to see me in a tea-deprived state of mind…"

In five minutes, Ireland had on his shoes and hat and was running for the nearest grocery store.

Northern Ireland gave England the thumbs-up. "Good to see you stand up for important matters, brother."

"Shut up," said England. He tried to throw himself sulkily onto the sofa, but the parts that weren't covered by Wales were splattered with milk. So instead, he threw himself sulkily onto the ground. Almost immediately after doing so, he sniffed the air. "Is it just me, or does something smell odd?"

Scotland sighed. "I told you, little brother, this is what happens when you eat cooking like yours."

"Not _that_ kind of an odd smell, you tosser!"

"Hold on a minute," said Wales. "I think England's right."

"England? Right about something?

"Shut up, Northern Ireland," England snapped.

Wales rolled off of the sofa and crawled next to the heating vent. "I think it's coming from here," he said, giving an experimental sniff. A second later, he collapsed onto the floor.

His brothers jumped up in panic and began to hurry to make sure he was alright. They made it about two steps before they too fell unconscious.

* * *

In his home in Kyoto, Japan looked out the window and smiled. The cherry blossoms were lovely at this time of year. There was nothing better than strolling through his garden and enjoying the view. He was glad Greece-san was coming over today for a visit. It was such a beautiful day! Japan could not wait to show off the scenery around his house, and Greece no doubt would find the perfect spot for a nap.

The sound of footsteps at the front door broke Japan out of his reverie. "Greece-san?" he called, heading toward the sound. "Is that you? I have something to -"

He broke off when he reached the front door. The footsteps did not belong to Greece.

Instead, he seemed to have been visited by two men dressed in high-collared, long-sleeved business suits, in spite of it being such a warm day.

The two men smiled at Japan in a way that was not very reassuring. The Nation wracked his brain, trying to think of a reason why businessmen would be visiting him. Government officials he could understand, but he knew they were not working with his boss.

"Honda-san, ohaiyo gozaimasu," said the first man smoothly. There was a small scar over his right eye, which gave him a predatory look.

"May I help you, gentlemen?" asked Japan. Stay polite. Do not show emotion. That was the Japanese way.

The two men began to slowly walk towards him. Japan fought the urge to back away. To not show weakness or retreat from threats - that too was the Japanese way.

"Please, Honda-san, do not be alarmed," said No-Scar. "We are here in regards to delicate matters concerning you."

Japan narrowed his eyes. "Matters such as?"

Scar-Man flashed another smile at Japan. Without saying a word, he raised some handheld device level with the Nation's chest and fired.

In a heartbeat, Japan dodged to the side. Something shot out of the device and flew through the space he'd been standing at seconds before. It embedded itself into the wall and crackled with electricity.

A taser.

There was a katana hung on the wall at the opposite side of the room, and Japan raced for it. The men were in hot pursuit though. Just as Japan closed his hand around the weapon, another taser was fired.

This one hit its mark. A steady flow of electricity rushed into Japan's back, and he collapsed to the ground with a yelp.

He did not plead or beg or cry as one of the men pinned him down, straddling him to prevent kicking, and clamping onto the Nation's wrists. The force of being violently thrown down left Japan's face smashed against the hard floor, and the man on top of him made it impossible to sit up. A second later, the other intruder grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, so he was looking up.

Japan continued to struggle, even though he couldn't move at all. This was wrong, so very wrong! They had to leave immediately! Greece would be there soon, and Japan would not let his friend be caught as well!

Something was sprayed into Japan's face. In seconds, he was unconscious.

* * *

Italy knew that poor Germany was a mess. It had been months, and he had still not recovered from the shock of being convinced that Prussia had faded away. Perhaps he still wasn't convinced. Italy saw the gleam in Germany's eyes when there was a knock at the door, or the way he would leap for the phone when it rang. He knew what was running through Germany's head. It was the same thing he thought after Grandpa Rome vanished. There hadn't been phones or the internet or any other modern-day communication methods of course, but Italy had nursed the hope that one day his beloved grandfather would come back and save him from the big, scary countries that always chased him. It was not until he was living in Austria's house that he finally understood that Grandpa Rome would never be coming for him.

Italy didn't blame Germany for holding on to that hope. If it were Romano that disappeared, Italy had a feeling he would never accept his brother's fading. But he said nothing of this to Germany. He was clever enough at least to know that his friend was trying to hide his sadness. Instead, Italy tried to cheer him up however he could. He invited Germany over constantly, tried to get him to play games, and even brought him a cute kitty to cuddle!

Germany had improved slightly, in the year following Prussia's disappearance. He smiled a little more and sometimes even went back to barking orders at Italy. Still it seemed like nothing could cheer him up, and that upset Italy to no end.

But at long last, the answer had come to him. It was so obvious, so simple, that it was surprising it hadn't hit him sooner. Pasta! That was what Germany needed to be cheered up!

It would be a surprise, of course. He'd cook all sorts of pasta as a present, and Germany would be cheered up!

He had meant to set out early in the morning to get the ingredients for the pasta, but he slept too late and Germany woke up before him. He couldn't have the pasta be a surprise if Germany was awake to see it being made, so he gave up on his pasta breakfast idea in favor of Plan B - the pasta midnight snack.

So that afternoon, under the cover of avoiding his training, he snuck away. The plan was to go to his house, get everything needed to make delicious pasta, and cook it that night, while Germany was asleep. It was a perfect plan!

As he passed by an alley though, there was a sound. A sound which completely distracted him from the task at hand.

A sound that went "meow".

"Kitty!" cried Italy, running to find it. He found the cat perched on a garbage can, licking its fur. "Such an adorable kitty!" he cried, trying to hug it.

The cat responded by hissing, squirming out of his arms, and running off. As Italy tried to figure out what scared it away, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned around to see that several men had come up behind him in the alley.

"Buona sera!" he chirped. "I'm Feliciano! I don't think we've met before. Have we? No matter! I like meeting new people. How about we go and get some pasta? I like pasta, and there are a lot of good places to get so -"

He was cut off as something was sprayed in his face and he passed out.

* * *

"I'll see you tomorrow, Austria. Thank you for having me over."

Austria smiled, as he saw Hungary to the door. "It was a pleasure," he assured her. They always had such good times meeting for tea. No amount of time could ever change that.

There was an awkward pause as the smiles slid from their faces. This normally would be the time when Prussia would jump out of the bushes (or wherever he'd been spying on them from) and laugh about idiots with crushes and how Austria should grow a pair and kiss Hungary already. Then, Hungary would beat him with her frying pan while he laughed and ran for it.

But Prussia was gone. He'd been gone for a year.

Austria reached out and took Hungary's hand in his own. "Until tomorrow?" he asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Hungary smiled at the gesture. It took her back so many years, when she had been taken in to be Austria's maid and, even though she hated being anyone's servant, he would talk to her like she was his equal and never insult her like that stupid Pru -

No. She would _not_ let her mind go there.

"Hungary?"

Hungary blinked. She realized that she'd been staring off into space, lost in her thoughts. Austria was watching her with concern, probably wondering what was going on with her. "Tomorrow sounds lovely," she said, smiling.

She set off down the road, trying to think about anything but Prussia. Her economy needed work. She'd slacked off horribly in the past year. Her boss was getting impatient, though she knew he was trying hard to hide it. Hungary had only explained her depression as one of the things "her kind of people" dealt with, when she last spoke with him. He wasn't happy with it, but what else was she supposed to say? How could one properly describe how it felt to lose a... a _friend_ who'd been around for centuries? How could she say how much it hurt, knowing that she took it for granted that Prussia would always be around? And - wait... was that truck following her?

It... it _was_! She hadn't been paying attention before, but now she could see that it was moving slowly enough to match her speed. The roads weren't very crowded, so there was no one to honk their horns or scream at the driver for holding things up and thus no commotion to get her attention.

Why would someone be following her? Were those people sent by her boss? No, that couldn't be it. If her boss needed something, he would just call. Whoever her stalkers were, they had no business bothering her.

She quickly turned down a side road. It was a lot smaller than the main road and, with any luck, it would deter whoever was following her. At the very least, the smaller amount of road space would make it more difficult for a truck to go after her.

But no. She glanced over her shoulder, only to see that the truck was still going after her. She grit her teeth. Whoever this person was, they picked a bad day to bother her. Ever since Prussia disappeared, she'd had no one to vent her frustration with or on. This person would work nicely.

Hungary turned again, this time down an even more out-of-the-way street. She stopped walking and faced the truck. "Alright, what do you want?" she snapped. "I know you've been following me! What's going on?"

The truck slowed to a halt. For a moment, all was silent. Then, the truck doors all burst open and a group of tough-looking men jumped out.

Hungary hadn't been expecting so many, but that didn't bother her. She'd kicked the entire Prussian army out of Austria's vital regions years back. She could take a group of idiots who thought attacking her was a good idea.

The narrow road worked to her advantage. It was pretty much impossible for them to surround her, and it let her punch them in a nice, orderly fashion as they got close enough. She hit the first one in the face, and grinned as she heard a crunch. He'd be needing to have his nose fixed up. The next one got her right hook to the eye, and the third got punched in the chin.

The fourth guy wasn't as stupid. He caught her by the wrists and managed to resist all her efforts to break free. She gave a shriek of and kicked him where she knew it would hurt the most. He gave a cry and fell to his knees, his grip on her weakening. Grinning madly, she pulled free and turned to see who was next.

A second later, something hit her in the chest and she couldn't see couldn't hear, it hurt, hurt, _hurt_, no!

And suddenly, she was on the ground and couldn't remember how she got there. She had just enough time to realize that one of her assailants was kneeling next to her head, before something was sprayed in her face and the world went dark.

* * *

"Oh Canadaaaaaa!" America called, barging into his brother's Acton house. "The awesomely heroic America is here!"

There was no response to this, much to America's displeasure. Nothing annoyed him more than being ignored. Even the usual groans of "Not _you_ again!" that nations gave him were better than silence.

Frowning, America began searching the place for his brother. "Canada? Hey, Canada? Where are you?"

"Who?" a small voice called back.

America grinned at getting some sort of a response. "Who's there?" he asked, trying to find the source of the sound.

"Who're you?"

"I'm America, the awesome nation to the south!" He went into the living room and began scanning. Sofa, chair, chair, fireplace, coffee table, white dog... wait a minute. He looked at the fluffy, white animal on the floor. "Was that you talking, just now?"

The dog looked up at him. "Yes."

"And who are you?"

"Kumajiro."

"Oh." The dog didn't seem very talkative. America found himself quickly losing interest in it. "Do you know where Canada went?"

"For a walk."

"...And?"

"In the woods. He should be back soon." The dog looked up at him. "Who is he, again?"

America grinned. "He's Canada, and I've come to visit him. Where's the woods he's walking in?"

"Backyard."

America trekked through the house and looked out the back door. Sure enough, there was a forest at the far side of the backyard. He was just wondering if it would be awesomely heroic to go in and surprise Canada when he heard a God-awful screaming.

"What was _that_?!" America shouted, jumping back and nearly hitting his head on a kitchen cabinet.

"Probably an animal," Kumajiro sleepily called from the living room.

An animal? America couldn't remember hearing an animal ever cry out like that before, but it could be some strange, mystical Canadian animal he'd never seen. Besides, he couldn't think of what could make a person scream like that, outside of participating on some game show.

Whatever it was, it robbed America of his desire to go look for Canada in the woods. He walked back to the living room and plopped down on the sofa. His brother would be back soon, anyway.

Kumajiro ignored him and began to snore.

* * *

The yakuzo had been removing all forms of identification and electronic devices from Japan (and he certainly had a lot on him) when they heard someone knocking at the door.

The intruders froze, before glancing at each other. The first slowly shook his head at the second. The message was clear: _Don't answer the door. Let whoever it is leave on their own_.

Unfortunately, the person seemed disinclined to cooperate. "Japan?" came a sleepy voice. "Are you in there?"

Both of the men cringed. Their target was having company? Why hadn't they been informed of this possibility?

Between them, the agents scooped up Japan and retreated to a back room. Minutes later, the visitor got the front door unlocked and ambled inside. "Japan?" he called again.

No-Scar tried not to groan. They'd been warned that their target had a group of friends, who knew him by the nickname of "Japan". They were in some sort of underground organization, most likely. No-Scar and his friend hadn't asked questions at the time, especially after hearing how much they were getting paid.

This did get No-Scar wondering, though. Ignoring the quizzical look from his partner, he pulled a small device out of his pocket. Their client had given it to them, along with the first half of their payment. According to the client, the people in this weird group had some sort of identification, like a tracking beacon. The device was able to detect that beacon. It was led No-Scar and Scar-Man to Kiku Honda in the first place. Now, he held it up to see if it reacted to this person as well.

It began to gently beep, and No-Scar smiled. Bingo.

Scar-Man blinked, realizing what No-Scar intended to do. He gave his partner a stern look, clearly meaning _No! Stick to the plan!_

No-Scar shot a look of his own back, one which said _It's too late, he's here now, we might as well kidnap him while we have a chance_. He prided himself on his nonverbal skills.

Scar-Man heaved a silent sigh and propped Kiku Honda against the wall. He couldn't think of any argument to that, especially since they knew that their client wanted as many members of this organization as possible. Word was that members of several yakuzo had been hired to go to places like Taiwan, Thailand, Vietnam, and even North and South Korea, for similar purposes. There was no reason why they should pass on this opportunity.

The yakuzo set about arming themselves. Of course the only knock-out gas they brought was in spray bottles. It would have been to _easy_ to have a canister to just lob into the room the newcomer was now poking around in. Still, they had the element of surprise on their side. They'd manage.

Spray bottles at the ready, they made a dash for the man. He managed to cry out "Wah?!" before one of them held his arms behind his back.

Unfortunately, the seemed to have better reflexes than his previous sleepy appearance on. As Scar-Man held up the bottle to spray him, he received a kick in the hand from the man. The spray bottle went flying across the room, giving the man a chance to break free of the hold he was in.

The yakuzo scattered and tried to come up with a good counter-attack. Scar-Man opted to dive for the spray bottle, while No-Scar tried to restrain the man. The man gave a roar of fury at that, and somehow caught No-Scar in a brutal wrestling grip that caused him to be lifted up, twisted upside-down, and thrown to the floor.

Scar-Man got the spray bottle quickly though, and the man was knocked out before No-Scar was even on his feet again.

"How strange," said Scar-Man, nudging the captive with his foot.

Now that he wasn't attacking them, it was a lot easier to get a look at the man they just caught. He had long, brown hair, and an olive complexion. His Mediterranean appearance made him stand out oddly in the very traditional Japanese home that Kiku Honda kept.

So Kiku was visited by foreigners. Foreigners who visited pretty often, given that this man was speaking in basic Japanese before. Was this organization supposed to be global, or something?

No-Scar shook his head. It was none of his business. They did their job. All that was left was to hand these men over to their client and get the rest of their payment.

* * *

"Alright England, here's your bloody milk!" Ireland called, bursting into his brother's house.

Much to his surprise, the place was empty. He was able to figure that fact out pretty quickly. When more than two of the United Kingdom brothers were in any building at the same time, it was never quiet. Now? Ireland could hear a pin drop.

"Go hifreann leat!" snarled Ireland. "Run out on me, will they?" The nerve of those jerks! Send him out on an errand and ditch him?

Ireland put the milk in the refrigerator (the last thing he wanted was for it to go bad and England to accuse him of bitching about something else) and flopped down in an armchair. It was a very comfy armchair, actually. He could spend quite some time in there.

That was precisely what he intended to do. They wanted to make him look like an idiot? Fine, he could play along. He'd just sit there until they'd had their fun and come back.

* * *

The thugs were careful to shove their target's body into the back of the rental truck before focusing on the injuries she gave them. They weren't stupid. The average passer-by wouldn't think twice of someone winded and possibly injured. Several men carrying around an unconscious, attractive young woman, though? The police were going to be called.

"They could have warned us how hard she can punch!" one of the thugs snarled, gingerly rubbing the part of his face that she hit. It was already beginning to turn black and blue.

The leader of the group rolled his eyes. Idiots. What were they expecting? They'd been warned that the target wasn't going to go down easily. Which reminded him...

Frowning slightly, he tapped the piece in his ear. He'd never seen a communications device quite like it before, and was not entirely sure he was using it right. The people hiring him and his men had been pretty tight-lipped about everything. They just handed them a ton of cash and some weird gadgets and told them to go after some woman by the name of Elizabeta Hedervary. Suspicious, but the money was real and it wasn't like he hadn't done anything like this before.

Apparently he'd turned on the piece alright, because a pleasant female voice was chirping "Connecting to headquarters! Please hold!"

After a few seconds of elevator music, a different voice came over the line. This one was also a woman, but much less pleasant than the voice for the recording. "Report?" she asked, sounding stressed. "Is this the South Korean Group Fifty or the Seychellois Group Twenty-Eight?"

"Neither. This is the head of Group Seven," he said, remembering the title he and his people agreed to go under for the mission, to prevent potentially identifying themselves by mistake. "We have the target. She will be immediately transported to the location we agreed upon."

"Excellent work," said the woman. "Someone will be there with the remainder of your pay. When you go to the drop point, be sure you are not followed by anyone."

He rolled his eyes. This group - whatever their names were - could pay top dollar and had some strange gadgets, but they insisted on treating him and his men like morons. "Yes ma'am, we'll be careful," he said, managing to only sound a little condescending. He was just about to cut the connection when one of his boys hissed something in his ear. "Oh! Hey, lady," he quickly said, "My people just got word that according to your device, another member of this group you're going after is nearby. Says he looks like he stumbled out of the eighteenth century. Not really threatening at all. Should we grab him too?"

"Hold on a moment." There was the sound of someone tapping on a keyboard, followed by soft cursing. Finally, "Dark hair that sticks up slightly? Aristocratic look?"

"Yep."

"Alright. The man's name is Roderich Edelstein. If you can get him for us, we'll pay you double. Just get the targets to us."

"Yeah, yeah." He tapped the earpiece, which seemed to shut it off. At least, he couldn't hear that woman anymore. "Alright gentlemen!" he called to the others, who had been waiting for orders after they'd loaded Ms Hedervary into the truck. "Let's get us another target!"

* * *

In a little house on the outskirts of Toronto, America continued to wait.

* * *

**A/N - Oh wow, sorry this took so long. The holidays kind of had me tied up.**

**Pen pidyn = Welsh for "Dickhead"  
**

**Ohaiyo gozaimasu = Japanese for "Good morning". Fun fact about Japanese - the longer a phrase is, the more polite it is. And while I've never had dealings with any yakuzo, I'm sure that they're plenty polite while kidnapping someone. More fun facts - that they refer to Japan by his human last name shows that they are not familiar with him. Inversely, Japan goes to address Greece in a more familiar manner to show their friendship (yes Greece technically only has one name, but still...)  
**

**Buona sera = Italian for "Good afternoon".  
**

**Go hifreann leat = Irish for "To hell with you!"  
**

**Imeacht gan teacht ort = Irish insult that translates to "May you leave without returning". Given what's going to be happening...yeeeah. Nice choice of words there, Ireland.  
**

**I am aware that Kumajiro is a small polar bear. America...not so much, apparently. XD  
**

**About Greece speaking basic Japanese - in the manga, there were several strips in which Greece practiced Japanese so he could speak it with Japan. So in my mind, Greece would speak it when he visits Japan's house, so he can get better at it.  
**

**Hope you all enjoy! Let me know your thoughts, feelings, and criticism, and hope everyone had a great holidays and a lovely new year!  
**


	5. Chapter 5: Abduction - Part 2

**Chapter 4**

**August 12, 2011**

Spain was many things, but an early-riser was not one of them. If given his way, his daily schedule would go along the lines of sleep, wake up, have lunch, try to get Romano to cheer up for a change, have a drink, have dinner, and go to bed. Many people, most notably his boss, did not agree with this dream schedule, and did what they could to make him do unpleasant things like wake up before two in the afternoon.

Today, it sounded as if Portugal was in on that conspiracy as well. Spain's brother was pounding away at his front door and yelling something about... England? His cellphone? Spain wasn't entirely sure. He yawned and rolled over, turning his mind to more pleasant things. He was having such a lovely dream about churros...

It seemed that Portugal was done yelling. That was making it much easier to go back to sleep. Back to dreaming about wonderful things, like tomatoes or -

The phone on Spain's bedside table began ringing. This was even harder to ignore than Portugal's shouts, but Spain was willing to do his best. After half a dozen rings though, it became clear that the caller was not going to hang up. Seeing no other way to get back to relaxing, Spain picked up.

"_Hola_!" said Spain, rubbing his eyes. "Can I help yo -"

"OH MY GOD, SPAIN YOU ASS, WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING IN BED? WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?"

"Good morning, Romano!" said Spain cheerfully, holding the phone at arm's length, while rubbing his ear.

"Don't 'good morning' me! It's been a _terrible_ morning! The stupid potato bastard won't leave my house."

"What? Why is Germany at your house? Doesn't Italy usually go to visit him?"

There was an odd noise from Romano's end. It took Spain several seconds to realize that he was swallowing hard. Was... was Romano really trying to hold back...?

"Listen, stupid Spain," said Romano. The boy's voice was hoarse, and he seemed to be unable to continue until he'd taken several deep breaths. When he did speak again, his words came so slowly and with such restraint that Spain was shocked. "Stupid Spain, you need to tell me," said Romano. "Please, _please_, tell me Italy is staying at your place. _Please_."

What? Where was this coming from? And why was Spain feeling _deja-vu_? "Why would Italy be at my place, Romano? Was he planning to visit?"

All was quiet on Romano's end, though Spain could have sworn he heard the quietest muttering of "_Merda!_" possible. Finally, "We can't find him."

"'We'?"

"The potato-loving bastard and myself." Romano's voice was rough again. There was a pause, as he undoubtedly struggled to regain his composure. "Not that that stupid Germany as been any good for much," he went on, sounding more like his usual self. "He's sitting and moping and being useless! I need someone to actually help me find my idiot brother, so you're coming over to give me a hand!"

"Oh, okay," said Spain, yawning. "Give me a minute and I'll -"

"_Now_, dammit! You're not falling back to sleep! I've already sent my boys to your place to pick you up."

Spain scratched the back of his head. "You really didn't have to -"

"Shut up. Yes I did."

A knock on the door told Spain that his escort had already arrived. He wondered how they got there so quickly. Hadn't Romano only just decided to send them?

Oh well. He leaned out the window and waved to the men, milling around the snazzy car. "Be out in a second!" he called.

Looking outside stirred something in his mind. Ah yes! Portugal had stopped by while he'd been sleeping! Now that he was properly awake, Spain felt terrible about ignoring his brother. He snatched his cellphone off of the bedside table and punched in Portugal's number as he headed for the door. It was only fair to call the nation up and apologize.

The phone was still ringing as Spain stepped outside and began to follow his escort to the awaiting car. This normally wouldn't have gotten Spain's notice in the slightest. This time, though, something bothered him.

He could hear Portugal's ring tone. And it was very close.

Signaling to Romano's boys that he'd be right over, Spain took a quick detour in the direction the ring tone was coming from. He quickly found that the sound was coming from a bush located right under his bedroom window. He pushed some of the foliage aside and yes, there was Portugal's cellphone. Lying next to it was Portugal's wallet which, a brief search revealed, still had plenty of money and all of Portugal's IDs in it

Spain picked up both of those items and stared at them, perplexed. Why in the world would his brother hide his stuff in Spain's bushes? Was he so angry over being ignored that he forgot them?

The sound of the car horn honking reminded Spain that he had to get going. Romano needed him to help find Italy, so help him he would!

He slipped Portugal's things in his pocket as he headed for the car. He'd run into his brother soon enough, and could return them when he did.

* * *

Finland nervously twisted the phone cord as the nation on the other end ranted away. "Yes, yes," he said, when the other nation paused for breath. "I'm sure you did put a lot of time and effort into getting that milk, Ireland. But all I want to know is when England's sending Sealand home. It's been an entire day without any notice -"

"Sealand isn't _here_," Ireland gruffly interrupted. "I _told_ you that. Weren't you listening?"

"Erm, yes," said Finland, deciding not to mention that it was nearly impossible for anyone outside of the UK family to decipher Ireland, when he really got going. "I just wanted to make sure I heard you right."

From the other side of the living room, Sweden looked grim. Well, more grim than usual. "He kn'w wh're they w'nt?" he grunted.

Finland nodded, acknowledging the question, and turned his attention back to Ireland. "Ireland, listen. I - _yes_, you told me about the milk - I need to know if England gave any indication as to when he'd be bringing Sealand back."

"Of course he didn't! That's the point of this stupid joke they're all playing on me! And when I find them -"

"Ireland," said Finland firmly, before the nation had a chance to go off on another tangent. "Doesn't it strike you as odd that your brothers have gone for an entire _day_ without returning home?"

"Now that you mention it..." Ireland muttered. "I've never had them try this sort of a trick before. But no, it's not the strangest thing they've ever done."

Finland rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "Thank you, Ireland. When England comes back, tell him to get in touch with me. Promise?"

"Sure, sure."

"This is not good," Finland groaned, after Ireland hung up. "Whatever he says, I don't think England could put up with keeping Sealand around for a full day."

"So, wh't're you going to try n'xt?"

"Try to get a hold of England directly, I guess."

Finland punched in the number for England's cell phone, his fingers shaking slightly. His nerves weren't so steady at the best of times, especially when he couldn't see a reason for something bad to be happening. He tried to distract himself by focusing on the ringing. _Pick up. Pick up. Please, don't go to voice mail..._

There was a click as someone picked up on the other end, and Finland's heart soured. "England! Is that you?" he cried.

"No, it's Ireland," a familiar voice replied. "If you had more to say, couldn't you have said it while we were talking, a few minutes ago?"

"Ireland? What? I...I don't..." Finland glanced hopelessly at Sweden, whose eyebrows were draw together in concern. "Why do you have England's cell phone?"

"I don't. I heard it ringing under the couch, along with all of my other brothers' things. Stupid idiots! Must be more of their trick! When I find them, I swear I'll -"

Finland abruptly hung up, too upset to bother with Ireland's next rant.

"Still n'thing?" asked Sweden, watching Finland put the phone back in the cradle.

"No! I have no idea what to do now! Where did England go? Where did _Sealand_ go?"

"Any'ne else to c'll?"

Finland scratched the back of his head, considering the question. "I'm not sure. Do we know anyone who is regularly in touch with England?"

"Th're's Norway an' his tr'lls."

"Good idea!"

As Finland dialed Norway's number, Sweden glanced out the kitchen window. It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining and a light breeze blowing, but all Sweden could think of was how Sealeand would love to be chasing Hanatamago around the lawn, if he were home.

Sweden gave a low growl, deep in his throat. If this was all some joke England was playing, he had better watch out for his vital regions. Sweden would remind him precisely why the Nordics were so feared in their viking days. He'd bring up his old berserker rage and - that bush seemed to be twitching more than the gentle breeze should be making it.

"M'wife," called Sweden, not taking his eyes off of the bush. "c'mere and look."

"In a minute, Sweden," said Finland, covering the mouthpiece of the phone. "And don't call me your wife. What?" he said, going back to his conversation with Norway. "No, Sweden was just saying something. You're quite sure about that, though? Alright, please do. Thanks!"

"C'mere," Sweden repeated, as Finland hung up. "Th're's someone outsi - AUGH!"

"Sweden!" Finland shouted, as his friend fell to the ground. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that _something _made a noise, like the breaking of glass. He was far more focused on Sweden though, who was now sitting up, gasping for breath, and tugging at something stuck in his chest.

"'Sa...'sa tranquilizer..." Sweden managed to choke out, examining the small dart in his hand. Finland realized that someone shot it through the window and he didn't know who and thus he had no idea what to do and _what was this_?

A second later, everything broke into a million pieces.

The window broke as well, shattered as a figure dressed in black smashed through. In the back and front of the house, the sound of splintering wood told Finland that the doors were suffering similar fates. Countless footsteps told him that there were more people breaking in. If something wasn't done, he and Sweden were going to be surrounded.

He darted to the right, threw open a draw, and grabbed a knife. He wished he had a chance to grab one of his guns as well, but he had a strong hunch the people rushing in weren't going to give him that chance. Forcing his mind away from something he couldn't get, he stabbed at the person who just jumped through the window. They dodged to the side, and he only managed to get their uniform.

Sweden was roaring like a bear, smashing his fists against whatever was within reach. Finland stabbed at whoever was closest, but the people he was fighting were unusually good at dodging out of the way. Some part of him wondered how ordinary humans were so agile. They _were_ normal humans, weren't they?

And then, he felt a dozen or so pinpricks hit his back. And everything else became irrelevant.

He turned to stab at his assailants, but it was too late. Whatever it was they were using in their darts, it was amazingly powerful. To drug a nation, and so quickly!

Finland knelt on the kitchen floor. He had no choice. It was either that, or fall over. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sweden struggling to stay on his feet. More darts were stuck into his back and arms, and only now was he slowing down.

Who were these people? Why were they in his house? Finland had no answers. The only thing that comforted him, in his last moments of consciousness, was that Peter wasn't there. He, at least, wouldn't be found by these people.

* * *

**August 13, 2011**

Switzerland frowned as he stared at the signs announcing the arrival and departure times of the various trains. This was the part of vacations that he hated the most. He also hated missing work, but that wasn't so bad since he knew Liechtenstein enjoyed the time off.

Speaking of Liechtenstein, he felt his little sister's hand wrap around his, as she stood next to him. "How much time do we have?" she asked.

"The next train out of Calancatal is in fifteen minutes. Is there anything you need to take care of, before we board?"

"Oh…um…" Liechtenstein blushed and glanced in the direction of the station's bathroom.

Switzerland nodded. "Go ahead. I'll be waiting outside, when you're done."

"Thank you very much! I'll be right back," she said, heading for the bathroom door. "Excuse me!" she added, darting around a businesswoman with a large suitcase, who was also heading for the ladies' room.

"That's quite alright," the woman said, slowing to let Liechtenstein enter ahead of her.

As the woman walked into the restroom, no one noticed her slipping a small bottle and a cloth out of her pocket.

* * *

Norway flipped open his cell phone for the fifth time in that hour. No messages. By this point, he wasn't surprised. He'd begun to suspect something was amiss, but now he knew.

His brothers were gone.

It was yesterday that he received a call from a clearly upset Finland, asking if he'd heard anything from England. At the time, he'd been perplexed. Where would England be that Finland couldn't reach him directly? It was an age of cell phones and internet, and the Nations had to be easily accessible. Even Sealand ought to have something so his "parents" could reach him.

Something about the matter chewed away at his mind, refusing to give him peace. It wasn't until he recalled the incident a year ago, when Prussia mysteriously vanished off the face of the Earth, that he realized how familiar the situation was. England was no Prussia though. His people lived on. There was no reason for him to disappear naturally. Which left his disappearance through some other reason...

And then it occurred to him that if England and Sealand couldn't be found, perhaps that might be the case with other Nations.

He called Denmark first, and tried his hardest to not panic at the sound of his brother's voicemail. There was no more success in contacting Iceland, which was when he began to feel chilled. As much as Iceland denied seeing Norway as his "real" brother, he always just "happened" to be around for phone calls or visits. If it was one Nation Norway could always reach it was Iceland. To keep himself from completely panicking, Norway tried calling Finland and Sweden again. He received no response.

He had only spoken to them ten minutes ago.

And thus he spent the rest of yesterday in a frantic cycle of dialing numbers and hearing the same recorded words, one after another.

"This is Iceland. Leave your name and number at the beep."

"You missed my awesome self! If you want to talk to me, Denmark, just leave a message and I'll get back as soon as I'm home!"

"Finland here! Sorry I missed you -"

"Th's is Sweden. Y'ur call -"

"- at the beep."

"- talk to me -"

"- Finland -"

" - Sweden -"

Somewhere in there, he realized if he was the last Nordic country, he had to get out and do something.

So now, he was deep in the nearest forest. Sprites and spirits fluttered around him. They were the ones closest, who he managed to reach after calling all night.

"You need to leave my house for a bit," he said. "Go to England's house and find the Fair Folk that live there. Ask them if they know anything about where he went. Then, find me." _Assuming I can still be found_, he mentally added, watching them fly away.

The sound of branches snapping brought him back to reality. There were others around him. They were good at moving undetected. _Very _good. And experts at tracking, if they found him all the way out there.

He had to keep moving. That was the only way out. Keep moving, and hope to lose them. He had to hold out long enough to find out what his sprites could learn.

He had to.

He _had to_.

* * *

Liechtenstein hummed as she ran her hands under the restroom faucet. It looked like she and Switzerland were going to make their train with plenty of time. That was great news. She knew how much her bruder liked things being orderly.

She heard the sound of footsteps behind her, and caught a glimpse of someone in the mirror in front of her. The businesswoman from before? Was Liechtenstein in her way? "Excuse me," the nation politely began, "can I help you wi -"

Before another would could be said, the woman shoved Liechtenstein against the wall with one hand, clamping a strange-smelling cloth over her mouth with the other.

She was able to give one short, terrified shriek, before passing out.

* * *

He knew they had to be the ones who took his brothers. They were professionals, clearly. He'd done everything he could think of, and he still was unable to shake them. He could see them being able to pick off the other Nordics, especially if they'd caught them each alone.

"Where are they?" he demanded, as the footsteps drew closer and closer. No sense in playing stupid, not when they were closing in. "Tell me what you've done with my brothers!"

There was no answer.

Norway steeled himself for a fight. He cursed himself for bringing no weapons with him. Even if he had brought something, he doubted it would give him the upper hand for long. Not when it was only him against so many.

The only consoling thought Norway had, as they closed in on him, was that with any luck, he'd be with the others soon enough.

* * *

Switzerland checked his watch and frowned. Five minutes until their train left, and Liechtenstein still hadn't come out of the bathroom. It wasn't like her to be late. Did something happen in there?

A woman in business attire came out of the bathroom, panting slightly and looking frightened. As she passed by, Switzerland caught her by the arm. "You were in the bathroom just now, right?"

"Y-yes!" said the woman, pulling her arm out of his grip.

"Did you see my sister in there? She went in about fifteen minutes ago, and our train is leaving soon."

"Your sister?" The woman's eyebrows drew together. "Is she blonde, with her hair cut like yours? And a hair ribbon?"

"Yes! Did something happen to her?"

"Come with me," said the woman anxiously, urging Switzerland towards the woman's room. "If you're her brother, you need to check on her!"

Switzerland's heart skipped. Was Liechtenstein hurt? "What happened to her?! Did she get hurt? She -" She was a nation. It was nearly impossible to hurt her. That was what he wanted to say. But he couldn't blurt that out in a train station full of ordinary people, so he just followed the woman.

"I don't know _what_ happened!" the woman replied. "When I came out of the stall, she was washing her hands. Then, suddenly, she collapsed! I wasn't sure what - sir!"

Switzerland had begun racing for the women's room as quickly as he could. She collapsed. Collapsed. Why would she do that? An economic downturn? A terrorist attack?! No, there'd be some word on that, wouldn't there? Anyway, who would hurt her?

"Lich - Lili!" he shouted, bursting through the bathroom door. The place looked empty, but she had to be somewhere in there. "Lilli, where are you?!"

"You can call her 'Liechtenstein', if you want to." The woman's voice drifted in from behind him, slow and sardonic.

Switzerland just had enough time to register the implications of that statement before something thin and light stabbed him in the back of the neck. He brushed the area, turning on his heel, and pulled out a tranquilizer dart. The woman stood in front of the door, grinning evilly and holding some unrecognizable model of gun at the ready.

Switzerland didn't care about any of that.

"WHERE IS SHE?" he screamed. Without waiting for a reply, he leaped at her. Catching her by surprise, he shoved her sidewise. Her head hit the sink with a satisfying _crack_, smashing the porcelain.

She staggered to her feet, one hand pressed to the side of her face to slow the blood flow. Some part of Switzerland knew that wasn't right, that humans couldn't possibly take a blow like that and still stand, but his vision was blurring and his body was feeling heavy. He opened his mouth to once again demand to know where Liechtenstein was, because that was the most important thing of all, but it was too -

He was only just able to register a thud, as he fell to the ground. The last thing he saw, before he went unconscious, was the woman standing over him.

* * *

In Dublin, a strange conversation was taking place. No words were spoken, at least none audible to human ears. The conversationalists were invisible to most. One half of the party wasn't even remotely human in shape and had traveled over the ocean to reach their destination.

"Are you sure? Not for at least a day?"

"Yes! He's very worried, but won't admit it. He won't leave that house!"

They were frantic. Such a thing hadn't happened for as long as they could remember.

"You can't feel Your One? Or any of His brothers?"

"No. The One whose house we're in is the only One left."

"It is the same in our part of the world. Our One remains, but His brothers are nowhere to be found."

"Help us find Our One, please! I'm sure if you do, He will help you in return!"

"It will be difficult. We can only journey as far from home as we have through the will of Our One. If we receive another command from Him, perhaps it would be possible…"

The trills and jingles of their strange tongues died down. The visitors began to shake and chatter.

"Gone, gone, where is he?!"

"Who?!"

"Our One! Our One! Oh, He is vanished! We cannot find Him! It is the same as Your One, and without Him we cannot stay!"

They were fading away, their words dying.

"Find Him! Find Him! Find Your One and Our One, before they are lost forever!"

As the sprites vanished from sight, the fairies fluttered anxiously. Without Their One's help, it was nearly impossible to search outside of the homes of Himself and His brothers. But that would not stop them from scouring the land for any of Them. Of that, they could all be certain.

* * *

Had anyone bothered to pay attention, they would have noticed a well-dressed couple hurrying from a train station in Calancatal, dragging rather large wheeled suitcases behind them. But of course, no one did pay them any mind. They were clearly ordinary, respectable folks, no doubt running behind for some planned event.

In fact, of the countless people there, only one directly spoke to them.

"Do you need a hand?" the man asked, as he watched the couple struggling to shove their cumbersome suitcases in the trunk of their car.

The couple glanced at one another. "You're very kind," the well-dressed woman finally said, "But we really ought to handle these ourselves."

"I see. Valuable cargo?"

"Something like that, yes. But thank you for your offer, Mr…?"

" Daniel, ma'am. Daniel Friedli. And think nothing of it. It's my sworn duty to look out for Switzerland and all of his people, fiercely and faithfully and so on."

The well-dressed man raised his eyebrows. "You're a member of the Swiss Guard?"

"I am! And…" he glanced at his watch, "I don't want to be rude, but I need to be going. If you're sure you don't need any help?"

"Not at all." The woman smiled graciously. "We would hate to make you late."

"Have a safe journey, sir, ma'am," said Daniel, heading off for his car. "Oh, and ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"Did you get hurt? Forgive me, but you look a little black and blue around your left eye."

The woman ran her fingers along that side of her face and winced. "So it is. That must have been from when I bumped it, getting off of the train. Thank you for your concern. I'll be sure to put ice on it as soon as possible."

Daniel Friedle smiled, nodded, and once again set off on his way.

When he was out of sight, the couple managed to shove the suitcases into the trunk. They didn't say a word to each other, until they were safely inside the car.

"Of course, we _would_ run into one of the Swiss Guard here," the man muttered.

"He didn't catch us, and that's all that matters," said the woman. "Besides, if you had made it to our meeting point on time, we could have left sooner. And I might not have had half of my face smashed open."

"It's hardly noticeable now, though," the man pointed out.

"True. The new research has given us some useful tools, hasn't it?" The woman smiled, starting up the ignition. "Contact the HCS and tell them we've completed the mission. I'm getting us out of here, before our luggage wakes up."

* * *

**A/N - What's this? An update? What are these insane shenanigans? **

**Um, yeah. Not a ton to say here. Sorry this took so long. Hopefully it was worth the wait. If it is (or heck, if it isn't) review and let me know! :D And give all thoughts, opinions, criticism, etc. I really want to know what you guys think, or how it can be improved.**


End file.
